


The Taste of Tangerines

by Quantum_Reality



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Nudity, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Reality/pseuds/Quantum_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Donquixote Rosinante is on shore leave at Shells Town and killing time at a bar. Bellemere needs a drink after a long day. Fluff and angst ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Tangerines

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is rated Explicit for some sex scenes in this story. There is fluff, but also some angst too. (As for character ages, you can assume Rosinante is about 19, and Bellemere therefore either 19 or 20)

Lieutenant Donquixote Rosinante was on his shore leave at a bar in Shells Town. He could spot other Marines, probably on break from their shifts at the local base, the 153rd branch. They were seated at various tables scattered around the bar and in general talking and having a relaxing time.

The bar itself was pretty standard: at the back ran the long bench top with stools for customers who didn’t want to sit at tables, and there were the usual wooden tables placed around the floor, some of them under windows which let in light; a few already had their drapes drawn against the afternoon sun, and the door had been propped open to let a breeze come through, aided by the ceiling’s electric fans whirling above the bar patrons. He was thankful, he reflected, that he’d chosen to wear the sleeveless uniform top on a warm day like this, and ditched the usual cap.

He mused that presence of a luxury such as the surfeit of electricity was likely due to the large Marine base, which would need to have its own generator, and as a goodwill gesture, supply the town with that generator’s electricity in addition.

Rosinante, seated at the bar bench opposite the bartender, was alone. While he got on well with acquaintances of his own and subordinate ranks in the Marines, he wasn’t really close to anyone in particular except Admiral Sengoku – and even that had to be hidden; only the Captain of the _Amagiri_ was cleared to know that Rosinante was actually a military intelligence officer, readying to become a double agent within his brother’s pirate gang.

“Anything wrong, sir?”

Rosinante looked up, startled out of his mental meanderings. The swarthy, mustachioed bartender was gesturing at his pale whiskey. “You haven’t had a sip since you got that a couple of minutes ago.”

Rosinante forced a chuckle. “No, just thinking.” He picked up the drink and took a sip. “Just thinking about back home, that’s all.”

The man smiled and nodded. “Going on leave, are you?”

“I’m due up in a couple of months. This is just a few days’ shore leave before I ship back out,” replied Rosinante, taking another sip.

The bartender nodded to himself in satisfaction and moved down the bar a bit, taking his towel off his shoulder and beginning to wipe down the countertop.

_How easily the lies come now,_ thought Rosinante. But then again, he reflected, it had all started that terrible day his father hadn’t had the sense to deny being a Tenryubito. His skill at prevarication had only grown in the years since then, especially after being enrolled in special training with Military Intelligence.

The best lie, he knew, was always mixed with a bit of truth. In two months, Rosinante _was_ scheduled to leave his current ship, but only to complete his final training in the current state of affairs of piracy, with special emphasis on the North Blue – where his brother was currently holed up.

Someone sat two stools down from Rosinante and after getting settled in, their voice called, “Rum and ice if you’ve got it.”

He looked up in surprise. He hadn’t expected a woman to show up next to him, and indeed the Marine contingent in the bar was heavily weighted towards men. He regarded her more closely as the bartender replied, “Sorry, I ran out of ice, Bellemere. Want a Dark’n’stormy? That’s rum and ginger beer, ma’am.”

Rosinante smiled to himself slightly. _So now he knew her name, and she was probably a regular customer._ This woman, Bellemere, wore a standard Marine outfit, and he could tell her rank was Lieutenant, like his own. Her head was shaved on the sides, leaving only a small trail of dark red hair down the center of her head, ending in a ponytail in the back. Her face in profile was sharp and angular, and she had muscular arms; she probably had heavy firearms training, Rosinante decided.

In reply to the bartender, Bellemere nodded. “Sure thing. Least the beer’s cold, right?”

The man grinned. “My icebox is good for that, at least. Coming right up!”

As Rosinante nursed his drink, he could see the bartender working away; glasses and bottles softly clinked as he prepared the drink, and with a flourish he handed her the finished beverage, a dark brown liquid that foamed slightly from the beer in it. She grinned and handed him a banknote. “Keep the change,” she said with a wave of her hand.

The red-haired woman took a healthy slug from her drink and smacked her lips. “Man! Just what I needed!” She set her drink down, resting her arms on the bench as she let her head hang down, her exhaustion finally revealing itself as she let out a gusty sigh.

Bellemere _was_ attractive, that was for sure. But Rosinante found he didn’t quite know what to say. Other times he’d tried going out with women, they had all gotten annoyed at the way he’d end up accidentally burning his kerchief with a lit cigarette, or tripping over doorways, and there would always be that one time too many after which he’d get a polite good-bye and a decidedly pointed undercurrent of, “Don’t call me, and I won’t be calling you.”

So this woman – he sighed. Even if she found his initial awkwardness a bit charming, she’d get tired of him being klutzier than the average Marine. Just as he was about to raise his glass to his mouth—

“Hey. What’s a Lieutenant like you doing here all by yourself?”

Startled, Rosinante nearly spilled his drink before he set his glass down on the bench top and looked at the grey-eyed woman, who was smirking slightly at him and leaning against the bartop. A bit perplexed, he replied, “Having a drink.” He gestured at his whiskey.

Bellemere chuckled. “Fair point. Just that usually officers coming here off boats end up hanging out in the Officer’s Mess with the local base brass, drinking the special stuff confiscated off pirate ships, not drinking the local fare.” To the bartender, she quipped, “No offence intended!”

He chuckled, looking up from a glass he was cleaning. He replied, “None taken, especially with the tip you just gave me.”

“My excuse is I’ve been on a boat the last few weeks and now that I’m off duty and on shore leave, I want to get on land for a bit,” Rosinante said.

“Hmf.” Bellemere took a sip from her drink. “I’m on assignment at the local base, here.” She extended her index finger, drink still in hand. “S’your name, anyway?”

Rosinante blinked, then remembered to tell her. “Oh! I’m-I’m Rosinante.” He raised his glass in salute.

“You probably overheard mine, but I’m Bellemere.” She raised her own glass, then took another gulp of her drink.

“So, I kind of noticed, you look … exhausted?” ventured Rosinante.

Bellemere groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, tell me about it.” She looked at the distance between them, then seemed to come to a decision. She got off her seat and moved to the one right next to Rosinante, then moved her glass in front of her. “If we’re gonna have a spill-your-guts I might as well be able to talk to you without being too loud.”

Rosinante’s eyebrows went up. Women weren’t usually this forward, in his experience; his mother had barely spoken even back in their days in Mariejois, his father being the one who usually did all the talking.

“So,” huffed Bellemere. “I’ve just had a _really_ long day. I slept wrong and my shoulder kept aching; I had to do practice rifle shooting this morning and that didn’t help one bit, especially as I had my morning calisthenics to do, too. Then this afternoon I had to supervise the newbies on rifle training and god, what a shitshow _that_ was. Had to explain to one of them _three times_ how to load his rifle. Seems like I got the dumbest damn bunch of idiots since Norland was alive.”

Rosinante shook his head in sympathy. “At least they can shoot, right?”

Bellemere snorted, propping her head up on her hand, her elbow resting on the bartop. “Can they hit the target? Maybe on a good day with no wind and the target being the size of a battleship. S’about all I _can_ say. Thank god I’ve got couple days off coming up starting tomorrow.”

Rosinante let out a short laugh of amusement. After a moment, he wondered, “Say, are you from the North Blue?”

“No, it’s just that I get a lot of trainees from there for some reason, and when they’re on break I keep hearing them mockingly call one another ‘Liar Norland’ when one of them tries bragging too much.”

“Hm. Well, I had a much easier day of it, I’ll grant you. I did my morning calisthenics back on the ship, and then my Captain needed to finalize my transfer orders. After that, I came into town and did some walking around to find a good bar and spotted this one.”

“Well, you found the right one and best one, in my humble opinion. I come here when I wanna blow off some steam.” Bellemere finished her drink and sighed in satisfaction. “So which ship ya going to next?”

“Actually, I’ll be transferring to G-8,” Rosinante tossed off. That part was actually true; he was due to go to Navarone, a heavily-defended, sprawling base with plenty of room for a Lieutenant and his instructors for the one-on-one training he was due to get.

“So you’re only here for…?”

Rosinante finished his own drink, then set his glass down. “Just a few days. We’re resupplying, doing some personnel rotations, then undocking for patrol.”

Bellemere clucked her tongue. “Well, _some_ shore leave is better than _no_ shore leave, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” Rosinante smiled slightly.

Bellemere sat up. “Want another drink? I’ll get this round.”

He grinned. “Okay!”

Bellemere winked at him and grinned. “This’ll be a surprise.”

She rapped the bench. “Hey, Ryota, gimme a couple of my usuals this time? One for me and one for this guy.” She thumped Rosinante on the shoulder, and he jerked, surprised at the contact. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed, so he managed to compose himself by the time she looked back at him. “You’ll like it.”

Rosinante had to admit, she had a nice smile and she was pretty attractive. But he wasn’t sure what that thump on his shoulder meant. Did she like him, too?

Shortly after, two glasses materialized before Rosinante and Bellemere, upon which the bartender announced, “Tangerine juice and vodka with a twist of lime; enjoy!”

Bellemere lifted her glass. “Your health!”

“Likewise!” Rosinante clinked glasses with her, then began drinking. His eyes went wide as the tangy-sweet taste mixed with the strong bitterness of the alcohol, leaving a pleasant burning in his throat as he swallowed.

“Wow!” he gasped.

Bellemere reached up, clasping his shoulder. She grinned. “Good, huh?”

Rosinante nodded, coughing at the strength of the drink. He could feel the firmness in her grip on his shoulder, and intrigued, he chanced a glance up and down Bellemere before preparing to take a smaller, slower sip of his drink.

She chuckled, smirked and winked at him before releasing his shoulder. She openly eyed him up, then leaned in. “Like what you see?”

Rosinante didn’t know where the next words came from, but he found himself winking and calmly uttering, “You first, ma’am.”

That caught Bellemere off-guard, for she abruptly let out a laugh loud enough that she had to cover her mouth to keep people from staring at the two of them. After a moment, she lowered her hand and, still wheezing a bit from her repressed laughter, she replied, “I _do_ like. You’re cute. Lovin’ the blond hair!”

“I like what I see as well,” Rosinante said as he slowly drank, his eyes lingering for a moment at Bellemere’s chest, then back up at her face.

Bellemere’s gaze held his own for a few moments before breaking away. “Let’s not let these go to waste,” she muttered as she turned her attention to her beverage.

A boundary had been crossed, Rosinante knew; that indefinable boundary between acquaintances and more, and he wasn’t sure if he ought to go on crossing it. After all, one stumble, then another, and soon she too would tire of him making her look ridiculous as everybody would stare for a few moments, wondering what was wrong with him. He let out a slightly exasperated huff, then turned to his drink as well. At least, he decided, he wouldn’t light any cigarettes tonight. No sense in accidentally setting his drink on fire.

The two sipped at their drinks in silence. The low murmur of conversations in the bar floated through Rosinante’s ears, but he caught nothing of importance that might portend any major changes either in the near or long term.

All too soon, the tangy drink was no more, and Rosinante felt a pleasant warmth inside him. Deciding he’d repay the favor, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a banknote, laying it on the benchtop. He hesitated, then as Bellemere put her empty glass down, he gently tapped her shoulder. She turned and looked at him.

He said, “Want another? I’ll pay, this time.”

Her mouth slowly curved into a smile. “You’re all right, Rosinante. Sure, I’m up for another!”

He raised his hand and got Ryota’s attention. He gestured at Bellemere and nodded. “You first, my lady.”

(He reflected that having been born a Tenryubito _had_ taught him one or two things about addressing a woman properly, and especially if she was in his same social class, for which Bellemere certainly qualified, being a fellow Marine.)

Bellemere’s eyebrows furrowed as she thought for a moment, then she smacked her hand on the bar and declared, “Hit me with another one of my usuals, a bit more of the vodka this time.”

“And you?” Ryota asked.

“Rum, neat,” he answered.

Bellemere mock-pouted. “You don’t like my special drink?” She elbowed him gently.

“I’m going for a bit of variety. You know ship regulations say if you want alcohol, you only get sake with meals on board,” Rosinante pointed out. He smirked. “You’re rather spoiled, being stationed on an island, you know that?”

He gently poked her shoulder. She winked and responded, “Hey, careful where you put that thing.”

Rosinante stared, then turned beet-red as he realized the double entendre. Bellemere burst out laughing and gasped out, “If… you… could… see… your face!”

And somehow, in the course of Bellemere leaning weakly against the countertop as her laughter petered out, her knee touched his. Rosinante’s heart began racing. _Should he draw back?_ _Would she decide he was offended? Or just being very ‘proper’?_

His mouth went dry, and he sat petrified, not sure what to do. Bellemere, wiping her eyes, let out one last chuckle as she looked over at him. “Well, you’re not red in the face anymore and—”

At that moment, he’d finally decided it would be better to move his knee away. Bellemere’s hand shot out, grasping his thigh. He froze, his breaths coming shallowly as he looked at her. She nodded. “It’s fine. I don’t mind, okay?” She patted his knee and withdrew her hand as he hesitantly shifted a bit to let his knee touch hers again. “Besides,” Bellemere pointed out, “we’re the same rank, so fraternization isn’t gonna be a problem.”

At that moment, Ryota was back with the drinks and he grasped for his glass, belting down a huge gulp, feeling the fiery rum wet his mouth and throat. Rosinante set his glass down and sighed in relief. _At least_ , he thought, _I can be sure she likes me._

* * *

A couple of rounds later, Bellemere had finished recounting her story of life in Cocoyashi village, provoking several barely-restrained barks of laughter from Rosinante as she detailed her “trouble-making years” in her village. He had also been touched by the way her fellow villagers had cared about her enough to be concerned about her joining the Marines.

“And what about you?”

Rosinante shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell, really. I grew up very poor; my father died when I was young. Nobody really knew me or liked me, so the first chance I got, I enlisted to get out of my village.”

In contrast to Bellemere’s friends and comrades, all he had had, Rosinante reflected, had been two years of a hard life, then the roar of a gun as his father held him one last time and the years of loneliness that followed, barely abated when Sengoku had found him and convinced him to join the Marines.

But he certainly wasn’t alone now, as Bellemere was shoulder to shoulder with him, sometimes leaning in so close he could almost kiss her cheek.

As if that thought had been a signal, Bellemere, who’d been nursing the last of her drink, drank it off in one go and turned her head to look at him. Her eyes held his, and almost before he knew it, she had reached up, gently clasping the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss.

Her lips were soft, and he could taste the tangerines and alcohol she’d been drinking as the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in complete bliss.

All too quickly, though, they drew back apart, and Rosinante gasped, “Amazing!”

She rested her hand on his chest. “Wanna get out of here?”

Rosinante swallowed hard, his mouth going dry again as he did. He reached for her thigh in return, feeling the muscle through her pants. He breathed into her ear, “Sure!”

At that, she nodded and they drew further apart, giving Rosinante the time he needed to compose himself and look around. Luckily, the bar had filled up in the time he had been chatting with Bellemere, so nobody had really been paying attention to the two of them.

Bellemere got off her stool and slipped one last banknote across the bar as a tip, and Rosinante, figuring he’d better do the same after he got off of his stool, slipped one over as well. Ryota grinned, giving them a short two-fingered salute as they worked their way out past the chairs, tables and patrons sitting or standing near them. At the doorsill, Rosinante’s foot nearly collided with it, but he grabbed the wall just in time, hoping people would just put it down to him having some alcohol in him and not being a natural klutz at times.

Outside, on the street, Bellemere sighed, “Whew! Love that breeze.”

It was true; although the sun’s heat meant a very warm early evening, a cool slightly salty breeze off the ocean left Rosinante feeling more comfortable. Bellemere reached for him and said, “Hold my hand?”

“Okay,” he replied. He reached out, and they clasped hands, linking their fingers as they did so. _No tripping, no tripping…_

“So I’m guessing you’ve already had a bit of a self-guided tour around Shells Town,” Bellemere observed.

“I know the main streets, yes.” Rosinante had actually memorized the map of the place, exercising his spy training.

“Well then, did you want to grab dinner or…” she butted her shoulder against his. “… go back to my place?”

Truth be told, he wasn’t that hungry; the drinks he’d been having had filled him up for the time being. The swelling in his pants threatened to become noticeable and he groaned mentally. _Garp noshing on rice balls as he bellows to Sengoku…_

Thankfully, that extremely unsexy memory eased the situation for the time being, and he smiled. “All right. Your place, then.”

Bellemere walked a bit faster, tugging Rosinante along. He strode faster to keep up as she muttered something under her breath.

Surprisingly so far, he hadn’t even had one close call since he and Bellemere had begun walking together, but as they turned onto a cobbled walkway, his luck ran out and he tripped, his right leg flailing up as he fell backwards and slammed onto the cobblestones, knocking the wind out of him.

Rosinante forgot he’d been holding Bellemere’s hand until a second later, she crashed on top of him, knocking the wind out of him again.

Just as he was about to carefully shift her off of him, he realized her leg had somehow gotten between his, and that two rather large and firm mounds pressed against his chest – and that was all it took for his pants problem to become evident again.

Bellemere braced her hands on either side of his shoulders, blinking rapidly as she got her bearings. As she made to push herself up, she moved her leg, and suddenly she grinned widely and let out a low chuckle. “I see you have a _big_ problem to deal with, Lieutenant.”

“Come on,” he groaned. “Not gonna help if you stay on top of me, _Lieutenant._ ”

“Don’t worry. The place I’m staying is just a few houses down and the owner’s visiting his brother across town tonight.” Bellemere pushed off of him and stood, then extended her hand to help him up, standing near him to “dust him off”, but actually hiding his front from any curious passers-by so he could try and think about Garp and rice balls once more to get his erection to behave.

Bellemere looked down after a few moments and declared, “You’re fine. C’mon!” She tugged his arm, and the two young Marines practically ran to her door. She got her keys out, and shortly after they were upstairs in her upper-floor apartment, which sprawled over the entire upper level of the house. She had a kitchen near the chimney which ran up one side, and her bed was under the window, which thankfully faced east. She yanked the drapes shut, then turned back to look at him.

Bellemere wasted no time, her hands already at her buttons on her shirt. Rosinante followed suit, and before long, neither had any clothes on. He quietly extended a soundproofing field around them and the bed, ensuring no nosy neighbors would disturb them.

Bellemere extended her hands, clasping Rosinante’s as she pulled him close to her. Soon after, the two of them lay entwined on her bed, hands roaming everywhere, the only sounds being pleased groans and the occasional sound of kissing, which gave way to quite a bit more than just kissing.

* * *

Bellemere wearily eased herself down to lay atop Rosinante, ensnaring his mouth in a deep kiss that seemed to last forever. However, eventually they did have to stop kissing, and she raised her head to look down at him.

“So was that good?”

She shifted her hips, and if Rosinante hadn’t been quite as worn out as he was, he might have decided to try another round with her. However, all the hard liquor he’d had left a haze of sleep hovering at the back of his head.

Still, as it was…

“Are you joking? It was _great_!” he replied.

“Glad to hear it.” She dropped a kiss to his forehead, then carefully got up off of him. “We need to shower real quick, though; I’m not waking up a sweaty, sticky mess.”

“As if that hasn’t been what we’ve been making so far,” quipped Rosinante.

Bellemere rolled her eyes. “Move it, buddy.”

His muscles protested as he got off the bed to join her in the shower, but it wasn’t all bad; the two got to assist each other in cleaning all the important body parts, even if the shower took a bit longer than strictly necessary.

Just before they got back into bed, Bellemere yanked the drapes aside and pushed the window open to let in the cool night breeze. As they lay facing one another, Rosinante murmured, “Thanks for a good night.” He shifted a bit, resting his head a bit more comfortably on the pillow. Bellemere’s lips curved in a soft smile as she looked at him. She brushed a stray hair away from his eyes and whispered, “Same to you. G’night.”

* * *

The morning sun woke Rosinante bright and early, and after a moment’s disorientation he remembered he was in Bellemere’s bed. He yawned, then blinked the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and looked at Bellemere, who was still sleeping. In sleep she looked less like a Marine and more like someone’s mother; fleetingly, he wondered if she liked children or not.

He reached out and tapped her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered.

Bellemere grunted, then slowly her eyes opened into a squint. She peered at him for a moment, then slurred, “You better be real. You’re freakin’ hot. Gorgeous blond hair and all that.”

Rosinante barely restrained a sudden burst of laughter, and quietly wheezing, he managed to get out, “Are you hung over?”

Bellemere opened her eyes a bit more and rubbed her forehead. “Li’l bit,” she muttered. She pushed herself up on her elbow, looked at him again, and her eyes flew open in recognition. “Oh yeah. You’re Rosinante!” she smacked her forehead. “Sorry, my brain didn’t seem to wanna get going right away.”

The bedsheet fell down to Bellemere’s hip, giving Rosinante a rather pleasing view he wouldn’t mind staring at for a while. But proper behavior came first; he said, “Maybe we should get ready? It’s your house – you could go first or if you want to sleep some more—”

Bellemere’s finger on his lips shushed him. “The best morning plan is right next to me.” She shifted on top of him and smirked. “Wake-up sex?”

Rosinante didn’t need to answer with words as he rolled them over so he was on top of her.

He just barely remembered in time to put up the noiseproof barrier again, but all in all, it was a very good way to start the day, he decided.

* * *

After the morning shower, Rosinante, a towel around his waist, stepped out of the bathroom to gather up his clothes. Bellemere, stepping out a moment later to let the cooler air of the main room dry her off as she towelled herself off, walked up to him and hesitantly touched his arm.

Rosinante, holding his Marine vest, looked at her and her concerned look. “Is something wrong?”

“I didn’t know a good way to ask this last night, but in the shower, I saw—well, you tried keeping your front facing me, but your back …”

“Oh, yes,” replied Rosinante. “Here, let’s sit down on the bed. I’ll explain.”

Rosinante grabbed up all his other clothes, then moved over to the bed and sat on it. He dropped them in a loose pile by his feet. Bellemere wrapped her towel around her waist as well, then sat next to him on his left. He remembered to erect his sound-barrier again just in case any nosy-parkers might come around.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of these scars on my back so much as they represent a very dark part of my life,” explained Rosinante as he reached for Bellemere’s hand. There was something about the way she looked at him; he saw trust and understanding in her eyes; the look of someone who might be startled or surprised at sudden new information, but who wouldn’t refuse to listen to the whole story. She would get the whole truth from him, he decided.

She clasped his hand and nodded. “I see. And I’m sorry to stare a bit, but aren’t some of those… burns?”

“Yes.” Rosinante, feeling dry enough and wanting a bit of a respite before he launched into his explanation, reached down to grab his pants and shook them out so he could stick his legs in. But before he could stand up to put them on, his Marine ID fell out of his pocket and hit the floor, flopping open to reveal his name and picture.

Bellemere automatically reached down with her free hand to pick it up, but just as she was about to hand it to him, her eyes went wide and she gasped, dropping his hand as though it were on fire.

“What is it?” wondered Rosinante, dropping his pants and holding his hand out for the ID. “What’s wrong?”

Bellemere licked her lips and darted nervous glances between his ID and his face. Her hand trembled as she gripped the folio, and she whispered, appalled, “Donquixote. The one who took his father’s head to Mariejois.”

Rosinante stared in shock. “Wha—How? That wasn’t me! And you shouldn’t even know that – it’s impossible!”

Bellemere seemed to relax just a fraction. “So you’re not… _him_? But your name!”

The memories rushed forth, startling him in their intensity – the cruelty of his older brother, the unspeakable acts he’d committed, his own childhood largely a wasteland of bitter poverty and no sense of purpose…

“No, no, I’m not. I swear.” Rosinante shook his head. “But I _am_ ashamed to admit that person is my brother, Donquixote Doflamingo. But Bellemere, how did you even _know_? I tried to find out if that had ever been publicized, but it’s been completely unreported for years. _Nobody_ should know that story!”

In a small voice, she replied, “I overheard Vice-Admiral Garp when he was here on inspection a year ago. He had the guest quarters, and I was assigned to bring him his luncheon. At the door, I heard him talking – just fragments; he was talking in a low voice – but he mentioned ‘Donquixote’, ‘father’s head at Mariejois’, ‘glad his brother isn’t like that’ and a few other things. I put it together and then knocked loudly at the door, announcing his meal. When he said to come in, I saw a high-security Den Den Mushi sticking out of his jacket pocket.”

_Damnit, Garp could’ve blown his cover! Why does Sengoku put up with him sometimes?_

He worriedly eyed her. “Bellemere, that’s _highly_ classified information that only Vice-Admiral Garp and Admiral Sengoku should know about.” He let out a gusty sigh, ran his hand through his hair, and continued. “The World Government hushed that up because a child murdering his own father then bringing his head to Mariejois is gruesome enough all by itself, but there is another very important reason you clearly didn’t hear.”

Bellemere leaned back a bit and frowned.

Rosinante took a deep breath. “I and my family – that is, my brother, father and mother – we were once _Tenryubito_.”

Bellemere’s jaw dropped. She babbled, “The Celestial—? But – but they only ever go out in special outfits and everybody’s scared of them or worships them and I shouldn’t even be talking to you as an equal and we just had _sex_ and does that mean I’m your slave or your wife—”

“Stop! You don’t have to – _listen_ , please!” urged Rosinante as he grasped her shoulders. Bellemere stared at him. “I mean it when I say we _used_ to be _Tenryubito_. _I’m_ not one anymore. My father, he was the gentlest of men. He honestly, truly believed that they – we – were not gods. That we were humans too, like you. That you and I bleed the same, that we live the same, that we die the same. He left Mariejois and revoked his status to try and prove his point.”

He let go of Bellemere and continued. “But my father was also dangerously naïve. He carelessly admitted he was a former _Tenryubito_ in the village we resided in. And – they had every reason in the world to feel their anger and hatred and bitterness – but it wasn’t right, what they did to my father, Doffy and me when they found us finally—”

Rosinante broke off, not sure he could say what happened next. He took a shuddering breath, willing himself to continue, willing his voice to stay steady to the end.

“Anyway, the villagers, they nearly burned us alive – all three of us. My mother had died by then from illness. I still remember the wall scraping my back as they hung me off the window, the heat from the stones – and then there’s my clumsiness. I tripped and fell a lot when I was kid. I still do, sometimes, now. So now you know why I have my scars, Bellemere. And the truth about who, and what, I am.”

“What they did to you – but you were just a _boy!_ ” cried Bellemere.

He sighed. “Life isn’t fair. Some of us are called upon to shoulder the crimes of our entire people, and the heavens know I seem to be one of them. None of the rest of us – not one of the _Tenryubito_ – will even grudgingly concede that their very existence does violence to any concept of fairness or true justice. Just my father telling Doffy we wouldn’t have slaves anymore was incomprehensible to my brother. So you can imagine how rare it is for a man like my father to be who he was.”

Bellemere reached out again, gently clasping Rosinante’s upper arm. “And this… it doesn’t offend you, being touched by… well, a human?”

Rosinante shook his head. “I could have done like Doffy did, become so angry with hate and bitterness, feeling I should still be special – but I just couldn’t. I just remember being scared, feeling the sheer weight of all that hatred washing around me like the heat from that fire. And what kind of person kills his own father? In front of his little brother?” He closed his eyes and heaved a tremulous sigh, not wanting to let her see the wetness that threatened to show in his eyes.

After some moments of silence, he looked into Bellemere’s dark grey eyes and whispered, “No, Doflamingo is insane. And my father was right. We _have_ to live together, not apart; it’s the only way. And I intend to see that happen one day.” Rosinante’s mouth quirked in a small smile. In a bit of a louder voice, he added, “So in this very long roundabout way of answering, your touch doesn’t offend me. And considering what we’ve just done, I’d say your touch very much pleases me. And touching you also pleases me.” He briefly rested a hand on her thigh.

Bellemere let out a choked wobbly laugh as the tension seemed to drain out of the room. When she finished, she looked at her hand and blurted, “Oh! Here’s your identification. Sorry.” She handed the small folio to him. He accepted it and put his left arm around her, holding her close. Her right arm snaked around his waist, and the two held each other for a few moments. He rubbed Bellemere’s back and said, “Thanks. I mean, for listening to me and for my ID.”

She smiled back at him and slowly pulled away. Rosinante took that cue and stood up, letting his towel drop. “We should get dressed now.”

Bellemere followed suit, and she got into a civilian change of clothes while Rosinante resumed his outfit from the day before. Noticing that, she said, “We could swing by your ship, get your duffel bag or let you change onboard ship if you want.”

“Good idea. How about after breakfast? Do you know any good places? I’m buying.” He grinned. “The least I can do after our, uh, rather involved discussion earlier.”

Bellemere smiled. “Thanks. And yeah, I know a good place. It’s on a little cliff over the ocean and you can get breakfast rice balls or whatever.”

“Lead the way, ma’am!” Rosinante smoothed the front of his vest, having just finished buttoning it, and followed Bellemere out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

Rosinante was trying not to laugh as Bellemere’s cheeks bulged out from trying to stuff two scrambled-egg rice balls into her mouth at once. Her glare threatened dire consequences should he actually laugh, but that went unheeded as he finally gave in and started chuckling, leaning back in his seat as he watched the red-haired woman opposite him manage to chew on her food.

After Bellemere was able to talk again, she said, “Payback time, mister.” She grinned, holding up a rice ball with her chopsticks. “Your turn, and _no_ cheating!”

Rosinante sat up, determined to win out by chewing and swallowing his rice balls even faster. He opened his jaw wide, accepting the first rice ball. A few seconds later, Bellemere mashed another rice ball alongside it, and he tried to begin chewing them both, only for his cheeks to bulge out as ridiculously as hers had. Bellemere managed to keep her composure for all of two seconds before she burst out laughing, slumping back in her seat as she pointed and tried to cover her mouth.

He rolled his eyes at her and gamely began chewing at the rice balls, managing to swallow them down without choking. He finished noticeably faster than she did and grinned. “I declare myself the rice-ball eating champion!” he announced.

Bellemere shook her head in amusement and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She took a sip of her green tea and looked out over the expanse of ocean. His gaze followed hers, and he noticed that at the horizon, there was a small speck that looked like a boat. The fresh salty breeze was as familiar to him as the back of his hand, but still, there was something amiss with how the café didn’t rock gently with the waves as a boat did. Their view faced north, so the sun shone only obliquely on their part of the small but airy café.

The conversation had been light and unimportant, relating mostly to how good the food was and Bellemere’s musing about perhaps buying a small tangerine tree.

“So what’s special about this island?” wondered Rosinante. “Food, exotic animals, hidden secrets?”

Bellemere let out a snort of amusement. “The only hidden secret here is how Ryota gets some of the liquor he does. As for exotic animals, hardly. Food-wise though…” Bellemere snapped her fingers. “You know, we could have gone for shellfish for supper last night. That’s something they do specially here. Some sort of blend of spices and whatnot, but there’s a few places that cook shellfish just _right_ and it tastes great. There’s one place I’ve wanted to try, but it’s really expensive.”

“I’d like to try some, then!” agreed Rosinante. “Anything else to do or see?”

“There’s always the beach. There’s a little sand bar on the north end, and when the tides are just right it can be a good way to kill a couple of hours. Interested?” Bellemere smiled.

“You just want to see me shirtless again,” bantered Rosinante.

She chuckled. “Guilty as charged.” She seemed to remember something and said, “Hey, you haven’t tripped since that one time.”

She was right. “Well, maybe you’re my good-luck charm, then,” he jibed.

“Happy to be of service.” Bellemere shoved her seat back and stood up. “How about we go by your ship?”

Rosinante nodded and stood as well. He left some banknotes on the table, then set his cup on top of them to keep them from being blown away. “Let’s go, shall we?”

* * *

Getting on and off the _Amagiri_ proved to be no trouble: a perfunctory ID check, followed by Rosinante’s quick trip to his quarters for a change of clothes and his duffel bag, then going back off the ship with a reminder from the ensign at the dock about the expected cast-off time.

As he walked up to Bellemere, he noted her civilian outfit: a loose-fitting white T-shirt and beige shorts that went to her mid-thigh, and sandals. She, in turn, looked at him. He was wearing a white form-fitting tank top and knee-length brown shorts, with his usual shoes on his feet.

She nodded in approval. “Lookin’ sharp! We’ll just go back by my place to get my bathing suit and I can drop your bag off, too.”

At some point after she’d returned from her residence with a small bag, they began holding hands while ambling down the streets of Shells Town, and Rosinante found himself wondering what it would be like to live on this island, seeing Bellemere all the time – maybe even, possibly, one day—

After all, he’d never told anyone else so much about his past; in fact, the one time he’d gotten as far with a woman as he had with Bellemere, he’d just waved off the scars and burns and claimed having been a reckless teenager. And truth be told, his past was something he would ultimately need to reveal to anyone who he cared about enough that they’d want to marry him. Otherwise it would be a secret that would always loom over him and the relationship, and that seemed, to him, to be a bad thing to let happen.

But he couldn’t think about that sort of thing, about girlfriends and settling down and all that.

Not now.

He had his responsibilities and his orders: Doffy, left unchecked, would surely become a danger to everyone and he _had_ to be stopped.

But one day, perhaps. He could finish his tour of duty after seeing Doffy safely locked away in Impel Down, and maybe seek out Bellemere again. And maybe, just possibly, he could gain enough influence that he could reveal himself and urge the needed reforms to the World Government to limit, or even extinguish, the power of the Celestial Dragons.

Bellemere’s slight tightening of her grip brought Rosinante out of his brown study and back to the reality of a beautiful day with a beautiful woman. She said, “Are you all right?”

He looked to his right, taking in Bellemere’s slightly concerned expression. He smiled and reassured, “I’m just fine now; don’t worry.”

He let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her waist, upon which she reciprocated, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment before straightening back up as they ambled up the road to the beach.

Rosinante could hear the crashing of waves against the sandy shore as they passed the last few buildings and walked off the road onto the sandy walkway, flanked by sparse long grass. It led out to the several hundred foot wide beach, where the grasses could no longer find purchase. It was only about ten or so in the morning, as near as he could judge, so only a few people had already set themselves up at scattered points on the sand.

A few large rocks here and there formed natural seats or natural outcroppings for shade, and Bellemere led the two of them to one such rock about two-thirds of the way to the rightmost end of the beach. She reached in her bag and drew out a large towel, snapping it out to full size with a flourish before laying it down underneath the part of the rock that jutted out overhead.

The wind wasn’t very strong, and the towel was partly in the shade, which was perfect. Rosinante peeled off his tank top and put it in Bellemere’s bag. She, in turn, pulled off her shirt and shorts, revealing a red two-piece bathing suit that showed off quite a bit of skin. He couldn’t quite resist letting out a low whistle, provoking a laugh from Bellemere. “I’m not the only eye candy around here, hmm?” She openly eyed his chest. Then she remembered, and said, “You can use my shirt if you want to cover your back; it’s a little bit big on me, so it should fit you.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’ll just put my tank top back on if need be,” he said.

“And your... um, lower half?” wondered Bellemere.

“I have some boxers that aren’t too… underwear-like, I guess you’d say, if I want to get in a bit of tanning or anything.”

With that, they sat down on the towel. Bellemere produced two bottles of beer and handed one to him. She grinned. “We’re off duty, so drink up.”

He opened his bottle and sipped at the still-cool drink. “Not bad; where’d you get this?”

“Ryota sets some aside for me when he gets a shipment of beer. Most of it comes in barrels, but there’s some specialty stuff that only comes in these small bottles. I’ve got a small icebox at home, so I like having one by myself when I wanna take a load off but don’t want to be around other people. And nobody’s gotten sick from this stuff, so drink up.”

After that, conversation lulled again as the two Marines drank their beverages, shifting occasionally as the shade moved with the sun.

Rosinante finished after Bellemere, savoring the slight mellow feeling the beer gave him. She took his empty bottle, recapped it, and put it back in her bag. She nodded at the ocean. “Swim for a bit?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bellemere. I can’t.”

She frowned. “What? Every Marine gets basic swim training. Or is it you don’t want to?”

He looked at Bellemere, then reached out to take her hands in his own. “Promise not to get weird?”

She eyed him skeptically. “ _You’re_ acting weird.”

He let out a short chuckle, then took a deep breath. “Some people get a little funny when they find out about things like this. I have a Devil Fruit ability.”

“No way,” she breathed, her eyebrows going up as she looked at him, surprised. “Seriously?”

“It’s true.” He slowly let go of Bellemere’s hands, then shifted his position on the towel. “I have the Nagi Nagi No Mi, which lets me put up a barrier against sound in either direction.”

With that, he visualized a two-way barrier enveloping the two of them, and the rustle of the wind and the lapping of the waves abruptly ceased. Bellemere’s eyes went wide. “That. Is. So. Useful!” she exclaimed. A slow grin materialized on her face as she connected the dots. “Were you using this last night and this morning?”

Rosinante laughed and ducked his head. “Guilty as charged.”

A thump on his knee got his attention. “What?”

“Could’ve _told_ me, you jackass! And there I was last night, trying to keep quiet so I wouldn’t wake the neighbors!” groused Bellemere, mock-frowning at him as she spoke.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, we can make up for it later and you can be as loud as you want tonight.”

“That’s a promise,” declared Bellemere. She huffed a sigh. “Well, swimming won’t really be fun without you, but can you walk in water? Like up to your ankles or something?”

He thought about it, then decided. “That shouldn’t be a problem. If I feel weak I’ll let you know.”

He slipped out of his shorts, leaving his white boxers that, as advertised, looked more like shorter shorts than underwear. “Just in case I fall. I’d rather not get the good shorts wet, because I’ve got to wear them later.”

Rosinante plucked off his shoes and dropped the sound barrier again. As the wind and wave sounds returned, Bellemere sighed. “I already miss the peace and quiet, but a beach isn’t a beach without the sound of the waves.”

They stood, and she kicked off her sandals before they held hands and began walking, side by side, to the ocean now lapping at the sand. Rosinante carefully stuck his toe into the water; it was warm, but not excessively so. He moved forward a couple of feet, and felt the water splash over his feet up to about halfway to his knees. It was an interesting feeling, one he’d missed for far too long.

“No trouble?” inquired Bellemere.

“Nope!”

Bellemere, on Rosinante’s left, was in the water almost up to her knees. They waded through the water keeping parallel to the beach, feeling the sun at their backs and the wind gently ruffling their hair.

Near the extreme end of the beach, where the sand began giving way to rocks and short grass, Rosinante stopped and reached around Bellemere’s waist, pulling him close to her. He reached up with his right hand and gently stroked her cheek. “This is perfect,” he murmured before leaning in for a kiss.

Their arms tightened around each other as the kiss grew heated and passionate. Rosinante slid his left hand down past Bellemere’s waist, down over the thin material covering the curve of her gorgeous ass which he couldn’t resist squeezing just a bit—

Her hand on a similar part of his anatomy startled him a bit; his eyes flew open and his jaw went a bit slack. She squeezed firmly, but not painfully as she drew back from the kiss and slowly ground against him. He moaned, “Oh geez, do I want you now!”

Bellemere’s nostrils flared as she eyed him hungrily. She purred, “And _you_ have no idea how much I want you, too.”

The sand shifted a bit under his foot, and any further question of how far they might go in a public area was settled as he stumbled to regain his footing and fell sideways into the water, plunging him below the surface. Bellemere was already grabbing for him, clutching his arm to help him out of the water and onto his feet. The shock of the warm water helped clear his head and calm him down as she helped him stand up a few feet away from the water. “Thanks!”

Bellemere, standing in front of him, asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rosinante got his breathing under control and shrugged. “I’m not feeling weak or anything, so it was just me being clumsy again.” He smiled, letting her know it was fine.

Her eyes wandered down to a spot near his waist and she let out a low whistle. “Nice Navy cannon you’re showing there.”

Too late, he remembered water and white clothes could be a bad combination. He looked down and muttered, “Shit!” He could clearly see the bulge of his semi-hard erection through the now semitransparent white material. He blushed and said, “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking when I picked the white shorts.”

She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from that part of him, and took his hand. “You didn’t expect it. When was the last time you were actually in this much ocean?”

As they turned and began slowly walking on an angle back to their rock, he scanned the beach. Luckily, nobody was in the immediate vicinity; the other end of the beach seemed more hospitable with more flat rocks to sit on, as well as a more of the larger rocks with shady outcroppings.

Bellemere let out a soft laugh. Rosinante looked over at her, and she leaned in. “I gotta admit, it’s a little hard to believe that was inside me earlier, being that thick.”

He smirked. He leaned closer to her and said, “We can always see if it fits again if you want.”

Bellemere rolled her eyes and poked his ribs, eliciting a startled yelp from him. “Tease me, why don’t you?” she mock-growled.

He dashed away from her, aiming for the blanket under the rock. “Not fair! I’m very ticklish!”

He looked back over his shoulder and saw her chasing after him, a determined frown on her face as she rushed to keep up. At that moment, she leaped! Startled, Rosinante staggered for a moment, which put him just in range— her arms wrapped around his legs, and down they went, falling halfway onto the blanket!

She leaped onto his back and tickled his sides, leaving him gasping for breath from laughter as he struggled to grab for her hands. Finally, after several tries, his hands had her wrists in a vice-grip. “Ha! Got you now!” he crowed.

Pushing Bellemere’s arms apart, he was able to roll to the side, pinning one of her arms and letting him push the other aside. He managed to turn his body so he was facing her, and immediately moved to get on top and straddle her. He gently poked at her stomach and sending her into helpless peals of laughter as she grabbed for his hands unsuccessfully before finally gasping, “All right! All right, I give up!”

He leaned down, kissed Bellemere’s forehead and nuzzled her nose, then got off of her, brushing the sand off of his legs before stretching out on the towel, staring up at the rocky outcropping and the clear sky overhead. She wearily got up, brushed the sand off of herself as well, then sat next to him, half-slumped over in exhaustion. She grabbed for her bag, rummaged through it, and pulled out a cigarette and her lighter. After she lit it and took her first puff of smoke, she lay down next to him and offered it to him.

As he took the butt, Bellemere put her arm behind her head and stared up at the sky as well. Rosinante took a puff off the cigarette, feeling the familiar calming rush as he inhaled. The two lay together in silence, passing it back and forth between them before it finally disappeared in a final puff of ash.

He wasn’t sure if it was the calming wind or relaxing after sharing the cigarette, but a wave of tiredness came over Rosinante. He muttered, “Gonna nap for a bit.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” promised Bellemere. “Rest up if you need it.”

He rested his head on his arm and lay on his side, facing Bellemere before his eyes closed and sleep claimed him for a while.

* * *

A hand shook him slightly. “Hey, wake up!”

Rosinante blinked blearily. He pushed himself up and crossed his legs as he sat up. “How long was I out?”

“Probably half an hour, something like that. I did a little jogging around the rock to kill time earlier,” Bellemere replied. “Let’s get back into town, though. Time’s wasting.”

“Sure thing.”

It was a matter of a few moments for Rosinante to get his tank top, brown shorts and shoes back on, and he was ready to head back into town. Bellemere packed away everything she wasn’t wearing into her bag, and with that, the twosome made their way back into town. He began looking left and right for a place to eat.

Bellemere, correctly guessing his expression, said, “How about we get a small lunch, then go back to my place and get cleaned up properly for a shellfish dinner?”

Rosinante experimentally reached up to touch his hair, feeling the slight stiffness from the salt that had been left behind as the water evaporated from his short trip into the ocean. He was definitely looking forward to showering and getting all the salt and sand off of him.

Not far from Bellemere’s place there was a small takoyaki shop that smelled delicious, and she looked at the menu posted on the door. “Pretty reasonable,” she remarked. “Let’s eat.”

Rosinante’s nose hadn’t lied; when the food was served it tasted amazing, and if he hadn’t been intending to leave room for dinner, he would have happily ordered the “All You Can Eat” and called that his supper as well. As it was, though, the lunch had been quite filling.

“Whew!” Rosinante slumped in his seat, and put his arm around Bellemere, seated to his left along the back wall of the restaurant. “What did you think?”

“I’m gonna have to get myself banned from this place or I’ll eat their entire damn stock in one day,” Bellemere declared as she snuggled in closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she did so.

The waitress came by with two more servings of hot green tea, which, despite it being a very warm afternoon, was delicious and soothing. Shortly after, Rosinante finished his cup and set it on the table. Bellemere finished hers soon after, and said, “How about we get going?”

With that, they paid, and once out on the street, walked slowly back to her place, letting their meals digest as they went. At her residence, Rosinante saw that the business on the ground floor was open. The windows were glazed with age and the bright light made it a bit hard to see inside, but he could tell there were shoes displayed on the windowsills. Bellemere beckoned him inside the small shoe store, and the middle-aged cobbler inside waved hello. “Need your shoes fixed, Bellemere? Or this gentleman’s?”

She shook her head. “Just popping in to say hi. This here’s Rosinante. And Rosinante, meet the owner of this house: Atsushi.”

The clean-shaven man, Atsushi, had black salt and pepper hair and was medium height. He waved in greeting, then said, “Well, I should get back to this.” He gestured at the work boot he was nailing a new sole on.

“No problem. C’mon, let’s go upstairs.”

Bellemere led them back out and to the familiar second front entrance that led to the stairs. The room was fairly warm, but the breeze through the open window, ruffling the drapes covering it, had helped keep the air fresh. Bellemere grasped his arm and said, “I’m gonna get cleaned up first. We get basically unlimited fresh water thanks to the base desalination plant, so have yourself a glass and you can read any of my books. I might end up taking a bath, so I could be a while. Okay?”

Rosinante nodded and smiled. “Sure thing.” She let go of his arm and turned. Before she could step away, he swatted her butt.

His smirk widened into a grin as she turned back to him, trying to fix a stern expression on her face, but her mouth kept widening into a grin. “Donquixote Rosinante!” she half-jokingly admonished before she dissolved into laughter. Finally, she managed to stop her laughter, and her hand darted out, reaching around to give him a hefty smack on the rear end.

Rosinante yelped, but mostly from the surprise. Bellemere grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “No bad deed goes unpunished!” she declared as she headed off for her bathroom, which was a sectioned-off portion of the room near the hot water tank set against the wall, about midway between the front and rear. It was on Rosinante’s left as he turned with his back to the window that overlooked the street. A bit closer to the front was the doorway leading to the stairs, and mounted on the wall near the door was the one light switch that turned on two bulbs in the fixture attached to one of the rafters.

He looked around, his eyes keenly taking in the apartment he hadn’t paid much attention to before. Her bed, of course, was under the window so the breeze would blow over her. On either side of the bed, which was slightly larger than a standard bunk bed, were small tables. One table had on it a photograph of a mustachioed man with a pinwheel stuck to his hat. On the other table sat a picture of a younger Bellemere standing near a tangerine grove (or perhaps an orange grove?). Set against the far left front was a dresser, atop which sat an ornate-looking box with a small lock securing it against casual onlookers. Next to the box rested a tree branch, presumably from the grove in Bellemere’s picture.

The stone chimney ran up the middle right side of the house, and a small fireplace and hearth, made of stone as well, connected to it. An icebox was connected to the one electrical outlet provided for household items (the water heater was connected to the higher-voltage mains), and it sat underneath a table which had a couple of drawers and on top of which sat the usual food preparation implements: knives, cutting board, and so forth. A few cups sat on it as well. An unadorned cold-water only tap stuck out of the wall, which Rosinante used to get his water.

As he sipped from his cup, he wandered the room some more. The room was actually fairly large: maybe twenty feet by twenty-five. Near the wall opposite the window, a round table with two chairs near it was next to a bookcase. Rosinante took a chair, and began poring over the titles.

“Animals of the Grand Line”, “Sky Islands: Myth or Reality?”, and “How Steam Engines Work” were typical of the books she read. He decided on the Sky Islands book, and settled in to begin reading while he waited for Bellemere to finish getting ready.

* * *

‘… the widely-known tale of Montblanc Norland is notable for his claim, unbacked by any evidence, that part of the island of Jaya must have been pushed into the sky. If so, absent any support for that land in the sky, it should surely have crashed back to the sea. Since no maps exist of that island prior to the arrival of the king of Lvneel, it is impossible to deduce with any confidence the likelihood that “Liar Norland” was actually telling the truth.’

The slight creak of the bathroom door pulled Rosinante from the book, and he looked up to see Bellemere, a towel wrapped around her head, with no other clothes on, stepping out to go to her dresser. He eyed her for a moment, then stood up. He placed the book back on the shelf, then asked, “I couldn’t spot my duffel bag anywhere. In the bathroom?”

She called, “Yeah,” as she stepped up to her dresser and began opening drawers. Rosinante went into the bathroom, closed the door, and after undressing got into the shower. He sighed in relief as the warm water flowed over him and washed away the lingering gritty feeling in his hair.

Some minutes later, a freshly showered, soaped, shampooed and cleaned Rosinante stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He pursed his lips and wondered if he should keep his hair somewhat messy, or comb it properly. Deciding it was probably better to look a bit fancier than he needed to, rather than look like a bum in a good restaurant, he went with combing his hair and holding it with a bit of hairspray he found in the back of one of Bellemere’s cupboards (to be fair, he knew, she didn’t really need to use it if she kept her hair so short normally).

He thanked the foresight he’d had in packing along a good set of dress-uniform slacks, his belt, and a good-quality button-down dress T-shirt. Between those and a quick shave to take off the slight afternoon stubble on his face, he knew he would look presentable for their dinner that night.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he stopped and stared for a moment at Bellemere, now dressed in her evening outfit. She was wearing a tight button-down that showed off her upper body’s figure, and her white dress slacks hugged her butt, showing its curves. He couldn’t quite quit staring until a low whistle sounded in his ears.

Bellemere was almost drinking him in with her eyes, and as she got closer, he could see she’d put on some lipstick and just a touch of eyeshadow, which made her look even more beautiful, as far as he was concerned. On her part, she reached up and patted his hair, grinning at the evidence of hairspray use. “If we got you in one of those dress uniforms I bet you could be on the next ‘we’re recruiting’ poster for the Marines!” she joked.

He chuckled, then replied, “Thanks. And you look really great, too!”

Bellemere smiled. “And thanks for dressing up; it totally slipped my mind to tell you before. The place we’re going to, the Provence Neptune, is one of those fancier type places with private booths for couples or small groups. We should be good for it. If you don’t have dress uniform shoes you should be fine, so long as they’re clean.”

The last thing Rosinante did was check his wallet. Luckily, he’d been paid a good portion of his accumulated salary, and he knew he’d get the per diem for shore leave when he got back on his vessel, so he wouldn’t be leaving broke.

Bellemere, having checked her wallet as well, took a hand mirror off her dresser to give her face one last look. Satisfied, she replaced it, then reached up to check that her ponytail wasn’t lopsided. “Okay!” she announced. “Let’s go.”

Rosinante extended his arm. “May I have the pleasure of your company tonight, my lady?”

She took his arm and nodded regally. “Indeed. Now let us away, good sir.”

On the street, they ended up going back to holding hands, because trying to walk looking like royalty from an island frankly looked, and felt, rather ridiculous to Rosinante, and from Bellemere’s half-amused, half-exasperated expression, likely to her as well.

The buildings became more unfamiliar and more imposing, and Rosinante knew from his map of the island they were heading into an area not far from the mayor’s hall. Down at the end of the street, Rosinante could see in the gathering late spring twilight some decorative columns with flames flickering at their tops, and a short line-up of people outside a fence.

As they got closer, they could see that the restaurant was like a large house with a gabled roof, with a brick-lined courtyard for patrons who wanted to sit at outside tables. The courtyard itself was enclosed by a fence made of wrought iron. The flames were from the two twelve-foot-long metal poles that flared out at the top, and which formed the corner points for the fence and creating a walkway into the restaurant proper.

The wooden sign mounted near the edge of the roof facing the street read “Provence Neptune” in painted white against dark brown. The line-up of patrons went from the front door, down the fifteen feet of entryway fence, and turned the corner a few feet. Rosinante counted ten people waiting in the line; they would have a bit of a wait ahead of them.

As it happened, they didn’t have to wait nearly as long as he thought. The next time the front door opened, a group of six went in and shortly after, got seated at one of the outside tables. It seemed, he decided, if you didn’t need a private alcove it took less time for the waiters and waitresses to give each group the individual attention the restaurant apparently took pride in.

Bellemere leaned in. “I’ve never been here, but I thought of this place because one of the other weapons trainers is married and took his wife here on their anniversary. Said it was expensive but worth it for the shellfish.”

“I can see why they have their reputation,” Rosinante noted.

And not long after that, they were at the front door. It opened, and the maître d’ gestured them before his lectern. He asked, “Outside or inside, and if inside, table or private booth?”

Bellemere replied, “Inside, private booth, please.”

The man made a mark on the paper in front of him, and nodded to one of the waitresses standing next to him. She guided them through another doorway into the restaurant proper.

The cool air rushing over Rosinante made him automatically look up. There were several ceiling fans he could make out in the dim lighting, but that didn’t explain the cool air – and then it clicked. He whistled and said into Bellemere’s ear, “Air conditioning! No wonder it’s expensive here.”

The waitress stopped in front of a round table with a round wooden seat around it; comfortable cushions lined the seats. Rosinante pressed his hand briefly to the small of Bellemere’s back and gently ushered her forwards, letting her get seated and shifting around so she could face out. After that, he slid along the round bench to sit next to her, on her left.

The waitress handed each of them menus and said, “Drinks first – anything in particular?”

Rosinante and Bellemere looked at each other. He said, “White wine?”

“A bottle of white wine,” she agreed.

They nodded at the waitress, who smiled. “We have an excellent house special. I’ll be back with a bottle and two glasses. Meantime, I’m going to close these curtains and give you some privacy, all right?”

And with that, the low roar of conversations dulled somewhat. Even so, Bellemere grimaced a bit and he decided to remedy that with a narrow sound barrier around the two of them. She smiled in relief at the utter silence, and said, “Thank you. That is _so_ handy!”

“Try not to get too spoiled, there.” He grinned, then opened the menu. A light bulb in a lampshade hanging directly above them lit the area evenly with warm white light in contrast to the rather sickly bluish-white that came from the specially coated low-power bulbs set into the ceiling above. Rosinante was mainly thankful it made the menu easy to read and gave them a nice conversational ambience.

The menu advertised a number of entrees and meals, prominent among them being the shellfish specials. He and Bellemere each quickly settled on the seasoned sea salt oyster meal, and at almost that exact moment, the curtains parted, and the waitress set a bucket on the table along with two wine glasses. The bucket held ice, and a wine bottle stuck out of it. The waitress then took their orders (Rosinante remembering to temporarily remove the sound barrier) and their menus, and left swiftly, leaving the curtains closed once more.

Rosinante, having re-established the barrier, poured them both out some wine, and after settling the bottle back in the bucket, he raised his glass. “Bellemere, I want to thank you for showing me a wonderful time on this island. I want to thank you, as well, for being a kind and understanding woman. You have learned things about me that few other people know, and you have warranted my complete trust in you. So, my compliments to a beautiful lady who has spent the last day with me.”

Bellemere let out a low whistle. “Tough act to follow!”

She thought for a moment, then raised her glass. “Rosinante, when I saw you at the bar yesterday, I never dreamed I would be meeting someone like you. You’re an interesting and actually pretty complicated guy. You’ve – you’ve abandoned something almost everyone on this planet envies or fears, and you’ve set yourself to chasing a dream that maybe will never happen. Thank you for putting your trust in me; I can only hope to keep living up to that. _My_ compliments to a pretty damn handsome guy who I haven’t kicked out of bed yet.”

Rosinante laughed gently and clinked his glass against Bellemere’s. He took a sip of the wine, savoring the taste.

He set his glass down and looked at Bellemere to his right. He put his arm around her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She turned and smiled at him, then reached up to hold the back of his head as she pulled him in for a kiss on the lips.

Rosinante sighed. Bellemere frowned as she lowered her hands, resting them in her lap. “Why the long face?”

He touched his forehead to hers, then moved back so he could look into her eyes. “It’s just – this can’t last forever. I wish to – to just about _anything_ that it would, but I’m due to ship out tomorrow.”

“But we’d be allowed to write letters back and forth, wouldn’t we? I know the Marine Post isn’t always as fast as we’d like, but we could stay in touch, right?” Bellemere frowned, a bit puzzled.

“That leads me to another secret I need to tell you. You see, I’m actually an intelligence officer with the Marines in training for a long-term undercover mission.”

Bellemere’s eyes went wide. “No way.”

Rosinante nodded. “Yes. In fact, I’m due to be transferred to G-8, that’s Navarone, for the next phase of my training in preparation to go back—”

He sighed and held Bellemere close, staring morosely at the table.

“Where?” she wondered. She reached out, grabbing his free hand. “Oh my god, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re gonna go back to that crazy killer brother of yours, aren’t you?”

Rosinante chewed his lip and nodded solemnly. “I have to, Bellemere. It’s the only way. He will never allow anybody to get as close to him as me, his brother. There are rumors he’s started a new pirate outfit in the North Blue, and if that’s true, he will become very dangerous, very quickly. There’s been talk from Sengoku about putting a bounty on him already, just in case.” He shook his head. “That will just feed Doffy’s ego even more.”

“The worst part,” continued Rosinante, “is that for my own safety it would be considered a huge risk to be in long-term contact with anyone except Sengoku and Garp. So I probably would be allowed to write you letters from Navarone, but after successful insertion into a place of trust with my brother—”

“—That’s it,” croaked Bellemere. She blinked rapidly and clenched tightly at his hand. “Damn it, it’s not like I’m gonna say I’m head over heels in love with you or anything, but you’re a great guy to be around and I just wish I – _we_ – had the chance to see where this goes between us.” She let out a short inarticulate growl. “Shit!”

“I’m sorry, Bellemere. I really am.” Rosinante urged, “Look, let’s try to enjoy the rest of tonight and tomorrow before I have to head back, and I _do_ promise you I’ll do what I can to write you from wherever I am, okay?”

Bellemere reached up again, pulling Rosinante in for another kiss. But this kiss was harsh and firm. Bellemere’s lips and jaw were insistent, claiming him for herself as far as she could do so in a public place. He returned the strength of her kiss, and his arm tightened around her shoulders, giving her an unspoken promise that he would be her man unless she said otherwise.

They broke apart, breathing harshly as they touched foreheads. He rubbed her back, trying to ease the tension out of her muscles, and for a few moments, neither said anything as they sat, unsure of what exactly to say next as they slowly disengaged from one another.

Luckily, a few moments later, the waitress was back with their food, and both found that the tense discussion gave way to a large appetite. The oysters were delicious, the slightly spicy salt adding that exquisite extra touch needed for perfection. The salad was crisp and crunchy, and the dressing superb.

As they wound down, Bellemere held out one of her last remaining oysters, her cheeks dimpling as she smiled lopsidedly. “C’mon, open wide!”

Rosinante managed to get the meat out without too much trouble, and in reciprocation he held out one of his own for Bellemere to try and eat, which she managed as well.

They were also each on their second glass of wine, and a wave of mellowness washed over Rosinante as he finished off the last of his salad and set his cutlery on the plate. He sipped at his glass and slid his right hand along Bellemere’s thigh. “Is this okay?” he asked.

She nodded, slipping her left hand along his thigh as well, her right hand holding her wine glass. She held her glass out to him, and he clinked his glass against hers. “And this one is for?”

“A nice evening. Discussions about our future aside, I had a nice night being with you and eating out.” Bellemere’s cheeks were a bit red, he noticed, from the wine and probably from their physical contact as well.

“Well, I had a nice time, too.” He drank off the remainder of his wine in one gulp, then let out a satisfied sigh as he set his glass down on the table in front of him.

The twosome sat in mellow silence, only perking up when the curtains parted, prompting Rosinante to drop his sound barrier again. The waitress beamed and said, “A good meal, yes? Any dessert? —No? All right. Just leave your money on the tray.” She handed them the bill on the tray, which Rosinante formally accepted, using both hands to take the tray and giving her a slight bow before she left them in privacy again.

“Was that your dad? If it’s not out of line to ask,” Bellemere wondered as he brought the sound barrier up again.

Rosinante nodded. “My father was not the best disciplinarian, but he taught us the importance of manners to our fellow _Tenryubito_. The bows, the woman on the arm thing – all that.” He chuckled. “I suppose it is my way of rebellion that I choose to use those manners with anyone when the occasion calls for it.”

“I’m honored, then!” Bellemere joked.

“Anyway, shall we settle the bill and be on our way?” asked Rosinante.

“Okay!”

As it turned out, half the money in Rosinante’s wallet was gone between the meal and the tip, and Bellemere groaned at her half of the expense. “Well, I’ll make rent thanks to the housing stipend from the Marines, but it’ll be a tight few days coming up until I can get at some money I stashed away.”

He pulled his wallet back out. “I could hel—”

Bellemere’s glare and her finger on Rosinante’s lips stopped him. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not your responsibility, okay? It’s my money and yeah, I spent too much the last few days but that’s on me, not you.”

Meekly, Rosinante put his wallet away and nodded as she took her finger away. “Yes, ma’am!” he conceded.

For the last time in the restaurant, Rosinante dropped his sound barrier. He accompanied Bellemere outside, and the warm air hitting their faces reminded them that it was a late spring night. She theatrically fanned herself. “Whew! I think I’m gonna be sweating real quick here.”

“Well, if we take it easy it shouldn’t be too bad.” Rosinante looked up at the clear night sky, the stars bright shining pinpricks amid the blackness. “And there’s a nice view, too.”

Bellemere rubbed his back before resting her hand on his shoulder. “There are more _earthly_ views too, y’know,” she quipped.

He looked over and slightly down as he slipped his left arm around her waist. “Well, there _are_ a couple of prominent features, yes.”

Bellemere snorted and rolled her eyes. “I left myself open for that one, I tell ya.”

An amiable silence descended over the young couple as they slowly made their way back to Bellemere’s house. At the door, the mood suddenly shifted as she winked at him and pressed herself close, whispering in his ear, “Remember I wanted to give that sound barrier a try tonight?”

He hissed back, “What’re you waiting for, then?”

With a sound barrier helping the entire way, they rushed up the stairs, pausing only to make sure both the ground floor entrance and her upstairs bedroom door were locked against intruders.

Inside, after turning on the light, Bellemere yanked the drapes shut over the window. She turned back and walked straight into Rosinante’s embrace, squeezing him tightly as she wrapped her arms around him. She then pulled back slightly, running her hands up his torso and chest to begin undoing his shirt buttons.

Rosinante raised his hands, somewhat inexpertly undoing Bellemere’s shirt buttons. Soon, he was done, and he slid his hands up her bare torso and over her breasts (which her bra didn’t cover too much of), gently squeezing and caressing them before pushing her shirt off her shoulders, letting it slide down her back as she lowered her arms briefly to let it fall to the floor.

Shortly after, she did the same with his shirt, and without hesitation, her hands went to his belt buckle, then his pants and zipper. When he made a move to reciprocate, she said, “Not yet.”

With a smooth flourish, she pulled his pants and underwear down, freeing his erection in the process. She stayed on her knees, and reached up to stroke his shaft slowly, teasingly, before extending her tongue to begin taking him into her mouth. She licked around the head of his shaft, the warm wetness teasing him, making him groan out for more. Obligingly, Bellemere wrapped her mouth around the head and swirled her tongue as she slowly let more of his erect cock into her mouth.

It was all Rosinante could do to remember to keep the barrier up as he moaned and looked down at Bellemere’s eyes, looking back up at him as she sucked and licked at his erection.

“Faster, please,” he whispered.

Bellemere’s head bobbed back and forth more quickly, and before long, Rosinante’s jaw went slack as he felt the momentum within him rise with every swirl of her tongue, his toes curling as the tension rose within him, taking him ever-closer to the point of final release, his breathing getting louder and more ragged in the process. Her cheeks went hollow as she insistently _sucked_ , slowly pulling back along his shaft, and he could hold back no more: a wave of pleasure flooded through him as his body jerked, spilling his essence into her mouth, reduced to uttering loud grunts as he came.

As she slowly drew her head back after he finished, she made a distinct gulping noise as his cockhead slid past her lips. She rose to her feet, guiding him over to her bed. His hands made quick work of her bra and pants, which shortly lay on the floor near her feet. She then laid crosswise on the bed, her feet touching the floor, her legs apart and her butt near the edge of the bed.

“My turn,” she declared.

Rosinante sank to his knees before her, a bit unsure of what to do (everything he’d done before with women had involved putting his penis in their vagina). He remembered her joke from the other day, and at first experimentally tried his fingers, rubbing and pushing here and there until she gasped in delight as his fingers probed an opening. As his fingers slid steadily in, she moaned, “Yes, that! Keep going. And use your mouth, too!”

At first, he stared, wondering. Then he decided he would start with licking her opening with his tongue, and her taste was… interesting. If he didn’t know better, he could almost swear he tasted tangerines.

Without further ado, albeit perhaps with more enthusiasm than skill, he followed Bellemere’s directions, and as he lapped at her insides while gently rubbing the nub near the tip her moans got louder and her gasps more frequent. Soon, with his mouth practically buried against her, his nose butting up against her pelvic mound, and his tongue flicking at her insides, she crossed her legs around his head, her strong muscles holding him against her as she thrashed, yelling, “Oh, _fuck_ , I’m coming—” He had to move his hands from her hips to her thighs just to be able to keep her from accidentally hurting him.

As her body went stiff and relaxed, each time with punctuated with a loud “ _Hngh!_ ” from Bellemere, he could feel her thighs flexing mightily. He tried to keep her at the precipice for as long as he could before finally, she went totally limp, uttering a loud inarticulate groan as her legs fell off Rosinante’s shoulders.

He slowly stood up, massaging his knees, then sat on the bed next to her. Her face was flushed, her chest heaving as her loud breaths slowly eased off, relaxing from her orgasm.

She groaned, “Just gimme a few minutes.”

He chuckled. “You look beautiful right now, hair all mussed up and everything.” He ran his hand along her muscular thigh, kneading it gently. “Love your legs, too.”

“Good to hear.” Her breathing finally evened out, and she sat up on her knees on the mattress. She said, “Let’s keep going, hmm?” She winked and grinned.

Rosinante, already semi-hard again, found himself stiffening at the thought. Bellemere instructed, “Lie down on the bed. I’m gonna give you the best sex you’ve had yet.”

He lay down on his back, resting his head on her pillow. Bellemere then straddled him, and he reached down to hold his shaft steady as she lowered her warm entrance, primed and ready, slowly down onto him, taking him into her, wrapping herself around him. She pulled his left hand up to her breast, leaving his right free to run up her leg to grab her ass, holding onto her as she began lifting herself up before plunging back down.

As promised, Bellemere definitely gave Donquixote Rosinante one very pleasing ride, culminating in her shouting his name, and him shouting hers, at climax.

And this time, Rosinante found himself more than ready for a second round, ending with him collapsing on top of her for a few moments before they could muster the energy to clean up in the shower.

Nothing, of course, was heard by anyone except the two of them, thanks to the Nagi Nagi fruit.

After the two tired and satisfied young people climbed into bed, Bellemere curled up next to Rosinante, resting her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her.

* * *

A clean and dressed Donquixote Rosinante stepped out of the bathroom, sporting his familiar somewhat messy hairstyle. Bellemere, who had joined him in the shower, but stepped out after drying off to get dressed, turned to look at him. She mock-pouted, saying, “Your hair!”

“Can’t use hairspray every day,” he bantered back.

He took one last look in his duffel bag, checking that he had all of his clothes, then checked his pockets for his wallet and identification. He had decided to wear a full regulation Marine uniform on this occasion, since the ship was due to cast off at noon that day and he might have duties to perform right after boarding.

“Well,” he announced, “this is it.”

Bellemere, in a casual T-shirt and slacks, came up to him after fixing her ponytail. She reached up and grasped his shoulders. He let the duffel fall to the floor and reached out, lightly holding her hips. She leaned in for a short kiss, then said, “This is it. But every bit was worth it, believe me! I had a good time.”

“Me too. And I swear I’ll find a way to get letters to you even after I’ve gotten into Doffy’s pirate gang. I just hope, maybe one day – it could be a long time…” He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to get into a long talk about any possible future together. “But you’re not obligated or anything. If you find a nice guy, y’know—”

Bellemere’s gentle laugh cut some of the tension he felt. “I’m not saying I want you to marry me or anything, so look, Rosinante, if you find some girl you like and want to settle down with, just do me one favor and tell me straight up as soon as you safely can. You deserve someone special.” She brushed a stray hair from his forehead.

“But if I do want to see you again after all this…?” he wondered. He bit his lip, holding Bellemere’s gaze.

She nodded. “If I’m not taken by then, then sure. We can see where this goes.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me,” he murmured.

At that moment, the warning whistle from the _Amagiri_ blared out over Shells Town. Any further discussion would have to wait for letters back and forth, as that signal meant Rosinante only had an hour to get back on board.

Bellemere and Rosinante wasted no time after that. He grabbed up his duffel bag in his left hand, joined her as they went down the stairs, and on the street, clasped her left hand in his right as they strode to the boat docks. Again, her good-luck charm seemed to be in evidence, because he didn’t trip once on the way.

At the gangway going up to the ship, Rosinante could see several sailors already rushing back, showing their IDs to the ensigns on guard before striding upwards onto the deck. He turned to Bellemere and grabbed her up in a hug. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him with all her strength. He said into her ear, “I’ll miss you!”

As he set her down, she reached up to hold his face. “I’ll miss you, too.” She leaned in, and he tilted his head down to gently ensnare her lips for one final, longing, intense kiss. The world seemed to fall away as they captured that one final moment of connection for all of posterity, but finally neither could ignore the onrushing of time, and they slowly, reluctantly, drew apart.

She reached out with her left hand, lightly holding his right arm. “Write to me, okay? Just send it to the base, here. I’m not up for a transfer any time soon, yet.”

“Okay, I promise! And if you can’t write me any other way, write to Marineford care of Vice-Admiral Garp. He’s eccentric, but he won’t read your letter and he’ll find a way to get it to me.”

“All right! Good-bye then.” She swept her arms around him for one final hug, which he returned.

“Good-bye, Bellemere!” He stepped back and waved, then rushed to the gangway to show his ID to the Ensign, who nodded and gestured him forward. He looked to his side and down at the dock as he held the railing, seeing Bellemere moving further and further away with each step he took. She waved and blew him a kiss.

He smiled, and stepped onto the deck and turned to face her from the ship. He blew her a kiss and waved a final goodbye before re-entering the bowels of the ship proper to return his bag to quarters and get ready for departure. On the way, however, he found he had to slip into a bathroom and lock himself in one of the stalls. In privacy, he raised a sound barrier, then allowed himself to sniffle quietly before regaining his composure.

A seemingly unaffected Rosinante, wearing the regulation Marine cap and uniform, stood before the ship’s Operations Officer and saluted, saying, “Lieutenant Donquixote Rosinante reporting for orders, sir.”

* * *

Donquixote Rosinante never saw Bellemere again.

But as they promised one another, Rosinante and Bellemere did manage to exchange infrequent letters when he was stationed at Navarone. In that time, he was surprised to learn that she had cut short her tour just after making Lieutenant-Commander, having adopted two orphaned girls.

As he had feared, the correspondence essentially stopped after he went undercover. Only once in his time ferrying Trafalgar Law from one hospital to the next, did he manage to secretly get one letter out to Bellemere at a dead drop along with a mission report, after rapidly perusing a batch of her letters left to him at the previous dead drop.

As he lay dying, protecting a young Trafalgar Law from being heard by his older brother Doflamingo, he silently hoped that an angry young man who he’d helped to cure of his fatal disease would one day grow up to live a long life, and he remembered a woman whose kiss tasted of tangerines.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to my friend Ayala Atreides for looking this over!


End file.
